Meet the Folks
by mosylu
Summary: This may be his most fearsome showdown yet. And it's happening over brunch. Established Killervibe fluff.


(A/N): I wrote this before we heard about Caitlin's mom being a horrible icy narcissist, so in this she's actually pretty awesome. For the prompt "Meet the parents" from fabledshadows on Tumblr.

* * *

Caitlin said into the phone, "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Mom, don't worry about it. Cisco understands completely."

Cisco glanced up for a moment, wondering what it was he understood completely. He ducked his head and focused on reassembling the pen he'd taken apart.

"No. It's fine. We're not going to die of starvation, trust me. Do you want me to order drinks for you guys? They do. Good ones. Like ten minutes? Sure. All right. See you soon." She ended the call. "Okay. They're running late a little. The cab company didn't send an accessible cab even though my mom _specified_ , soooooooo … but they're on their way now."

"Okay," he said cheerfully.

"That's okay, right?"

"Yeah, sure, I get it. No problem."

"Are you okay?"

"Sure!" That had sounded a little manic, he thought, and twisted the barrel of the pen back into place, clicking it a few times to make sure it still worked.

"It's just, that's the fourth time you've disassembled and reassembled that pen."

He dropped it on the plate in front of him. It clanged musically against the china.

Dios Mio, not only was he eating brunch, he was eating it in a place that had actual freaking china.

His own fault. He'd picked the restaurant. But she liked it, so he'd figured her parents would like it, and well, he could find something to eat just about anywhere.

The waitress came by and Caitlin ordered three mimosas, one of them virgin because alcohol interacted badly with her dad's medication, and an iced tea.

Cisco asked for a beer, and the waitress hesitated and said, "We don't have that for brunch."

His ears burned, and he said, "Okay, I'll take a mimosa too, that's cool."

She looked at his pen sitting on the clean, bright plate, and he picked it up and put it in the pocket of his blazer.

When the waitress had left, Caitlin reached across the table to put her hand over his. "Hey."

"Hmmm?"

"I love you."

He softened like butter in the sun. Though he knew it was true, Caitlin sometimes found it hard to say that out loud, in words, so it was always nice to hear. "I love you back."

"I love you, and my parents are going to love you."

"Ehhhh," he said, and debated pulling his hand out from under hers so he could start taking the pen apart again.

"No, they are," she said. "My mom already does. Remember I told you? When I called to tell her we'd started dating she said 'Well, finally!' You like her too, remember?"

"Sure, yeah, of course." They'd met after the explosion, when Mrs. Snow had come out to Central City to look after Caitlin. You couldn't help but get to like somebody when you were both making sure that the same person got out of bed and put some kind of food in her mouth every day. They'd become Facebook friends, and she didn't post saccharine "inspirational" things and sometimes put up dirty jokes (not super-dirty, like mom-dirty - his mama laughed at them anyway) and often shared LGBT support posts even when it wasn't Pride Month. "Your mom's awesome."

"Okay, so that's fine. Is it my dad? Is it the MS thing?"

"No, of course not." Her dad's disease had been flaring up lately, enough that he was using a wheelchair this trip. Caitlin had supplied Cisco with seventy billion articles on MS. He'd waded through at least three of them and then sat her down and just said, "Tell me what your dad can and can't do right now, okay?" and she had, with only a few side trips to talk about demyelination and MRIs.

"Then what?"

"Caitlin, you're his only daughter. His only child, in fact. His princess."

"Okay, my dad isn't like - "

"I've seen his texts. He literally calls you princess."

"That's a joke between us."

"You sure about that?"

"My dad is not the shotgun-wielding, nobody's-good-enough-for-my-daughter type, okay?" She pointed at her chest. "He raised me. Am I a princess?"

"Not a princess exactly. Maybe a duchess."

She wrinkled her nose at him.

"And I'm not saying your dad thinks _nobody's_ good enough for his daughter." He gestured to himself. "I'm saying that this - "

"You _are too_ good enough!" she said without letting him finish his sentence.

"C'mon," he said. "You really think I'm the kind of guy your parents ever pictured you with?" He plucked at his shirt, regretting that he hadn't put on a tie. But god, he hated ties. They choked him and he always felt like he was attending a funeral. Was it worse to wear a tie half-undone than it was not to wear a tie at all? He felt like yes. "I literally had to buy this shirt off Amazon with same-day shipping because I didn't have time to wash the only button-down I own."

"That was very resourceful! And you have Prime, you get everything same-day shipping."

"I have never owned a car that didn't have duct tape somewhere on it or in it."

"They live in Gotham. They've never owned a car, period."

"I'm the kind of long-haired, goofy, jokey, video-game-playing weirdo that parents go, god, I hope she breaks up with him soon and gets with a grown-up."

"Stop. _Stop._ You are all those things, and you're perfect exactly the way you are. You are the kind of guy I picked. Plus, you're sweet and you're thoughtful and you're brilliant and you're wonderful. Plus, also, you're a superhero."

"You're gonna tell them that?"

"No, but I wanted to remind you. I love you and they'll love you. It's as simple as that." She nodded, case closed.

The mimosas arrived. He thought, _Don't gulp it, wait until this crashes and burns to get drunk,_ and sipped carefully.

He looked across the table at Caitlin and corrected himself, _If. If this crashes and burns._

He loved her. There wasn't anybody in the world who could love her more. And she was happy with him, he knew it. He'd known her long enough, he knew when she was happy, and she was happy with him.

So, those two things, right? Those were supposed to be all a good parent really wanted for their kid. To be loved and to be happy.

That should be enough. He shouldn't have to apologize for one single thing that he was, not if Caitlin didn't mind.

He sipped his mimosa again and wished they'd had beer.

She squeaked, "There they are," and he made himself put the drink down.

Caitlin's mom was small and blonde, with her daughter's honey-colored eyes, and she gave Cisco a big hug. "So good to see you. Your hair's longer!"

"Uh, yeah," he said, tucking it behind his ears. "Good flight and stuff?"

"Oh, well, _flying,_ " she said, rolling her eyes.

Caitlin was bent over, kissing her dad's cheek. "Hi, Daddy."

 _Daddy_ , Cisco thought. Yeah, right, she wasn't a princess.

He hugged her back. "Hi, honey. So good to see you."

Caitlin straightened up. "Cisco, this is my dad, David Snow. Dad, Cisco Ramon."

"Hi," he said, shaking Caitlin's dad's hand. "Nice to meet you." _Sir,_ he thought of adding, but that might be sucking up.

If Caitlin got the color of her eyes from her mom, she got their sharp, probing look from her dad. He took just a moment too long to respond, and Cisco wondered if it was his hair or the unbuttoned top button of his shirt or maybe just that he was a little more _ethnic_ than David Snow pictured for his daughter.

"Nice to meet you, too," he said finally.

They all sat back down - well, three of them sat down and her dad maneuvered his chair into place - and started talking about the menu. That took up ten minutes, that was nice. Appreciating the mimosas took another two.

When the waitress had come by and they ordered, she took their menus away and left Cisco without anything to fiddle with. He reminded himself to leave the pen in his pocket.

David drank some of his iced tea, set the glass down, and looked across the table. "So, Cisco, any plans to convert?"

Caitlin rolled her eyes and muttered, _"Daddy."_

Cisco looked him in the eye and said, "No, sir, I'm an atheist."

"Fair enough," her dad said. "Caitlin tells me you're into video games."

"Yep. Sure am."

"Did my daughter mention what I do?"

"History professor, right? Gotham University?" Yeah, well, he'd torn holes in the fabric of reality and patched them back up, so, you know. So there.

"Precisely, exactly. You know, I'm putting together a class on the depiction of historical events in popular culture."

He forgot who he was talking to for a moment. "Wow. That's pretty sweet. I'd take that class. Like movies and stuff?"

"I have plenty of movies, and books, and television shows, but - Listen, I just became aware of quite a gap in my pop-cultural knowledge. Care to fill me in on this video game series that takes place in various historical contexts? Something about assassins."

"Oh my god, you mean _Assassin's Creed_? It's awesome, it - "

Caitlin took a sip of her drink, smiling. Her mother leaned across the table and muttered, "Thank you so much for suggesting that last night, honey. Your father was so nervous they wouldn't have anything to talk about."

"Oh, I could tell when he led with the conversion question."

Her mom snorted. "Well, that was just him screwing with poor Cisco to see what he would do. He did the same thing to Ronnie, remember?"

And Ronnie had stuttered and mumbled something about not really thinking about it, Caitlin remembered. She looked at two of her favorite men in the world hotly discussing the French Revolution and decided she was going to say _I told you so_ a lot, later on.

FINIS


End file.
